Chapter Text
Two weeks. It had been two weeks, and somehow the pain was just as bad as the first day. Hanzo was no closer to letting anyone near him– not that he’d normally let just anyone touch his nipples. Mercy was one thing: she had clean and steady hands and was quick to offer maintenance advice when needed. Lúcio was another. He’d done the actual piercing and had given Hanzo opinions about jewelry types and cleaning supplies while he was still dizzy from the experience of a thick piercing needle punching through his sensitive nipples. Hanzo had dazedly agreed with him about captive bead rings and then wandered off, pecs burning. His fingers had twitched, eager to play with the new bits of metal in his skin.
He’d held off until his shower a scant few hours later. His chest ached. He’d carefully, delicately played with the long barbells though each side: in one hole, out the other. He slid them back and forth, savoring the pinch of a fresh wound. It was nothing like a stabbing, nothing like the drag of a bullet. It sat in the wounded, hypersensitive skin of his nipple like a prize and shone in the morning sunlight when he woke up the next day.
Lúcio had said it would take months before he could really use them or enjoy them with a partner. It had taken Hanzo all of three hours to figure out that he could come with just one finger flicking carefully at the bar pushed through his dusky pink nipple.
But back to business. It had been two weeks, and McCree was due back any minute. Hanzo tugged on his gi, pulling the cloth all the way up over his shoulders. They weren’t in battle now. There was no need for him to expose his breast to the open air, and the surprise would be worth it.
He headed to the hangar to wait.
–
McCree and the rest of the team arrived not too much longer, right on schedule. The cowboy had looked tired beyond belief and ragged when they’d touched down. He looked more intent on a shower with soap than a shower of kisses, and Hanzo had obliged. He was eager, but not so eager so as to ruin the element of surprise.
In fact, in a supreme display of self-control, Hanzo made it two entire days without showing off-– no shared showers, no shirtless runs. It wasn’t until he was in the gym lifting weights with McCree at his side that anything changed.
“You alright, darlin’?” McCree finished a rep and set down his weight, staring at Hanzo.
“Yes, of course.” Hanzo set down the crossbar of the weights he was lifting. “Is something wrong?”
McCree looked him over. “I don’t rightly know. You seem different. Did something happen while I was gone?”
Hanzo looked around at the empty gym. It was just the two of them in here and they weren’t likely to be intruded upon any time soon. A peek couldn’t hurt.
He glanced around conspiratorially before lifting up the corner of his t-shirt. One gleaming metal bit shone in the fluorescent lights of the gym. McCree’s gasp was audible.
“Yes,” Hanzo said slyly. “Something happened.” Then he turned back around to the wide crossbar and the heavy weights it supported, intent on his exercise. McCree’s ragged breaths behind him were of no consequence.
He managed to make it two reps before hot hands slunk around his ribs and settled, cupping his chest over his t-shirt. Hanzo could feel McCree straddling the insufficiently-padded bench behind him, the long heat of his body settling against Hanzo’s back. Hanzo grinned, drumming his fingers along the crossbar, which he’d dedicatedly set back in its holder.
“Can I help you?” He said primly.
McCree rubbed his beard along the back of Hanzo’s neck and massaged his chest.
“When did this happen, Han?”
“Not that long ago. It was nothing, really.” He didn’t mention the flinch when the needle punched through or the subsequent two days of throbbing he’d dealt with. He didn’t mention the chafing bedsheets or the brief second of agony when he’d had to deal with a stray hair tangled in the barbell. Instead, he puffed his chest out and leaned his head back on McCree’s shoulder. He turned his head and whispered in McCree’s ear. “Worth it for the sheer torture of arousal, really.”
McCree seemed instantly invested. Perhaps overly so. Did Hanzo need to correct that?
McCree’s fingers wandered, almost brushing the delicate holes in hanzo’s nipples. Hanzo swatted them away.
“No,” he admonished. “You are not permitted to touch.”
“Oh?” McCree breathed heavily along Hanzo’s neck. His hands massaged at Hanzo’s muscles, but dutifully stayed away from the stiff points of Hanzo’s nipples.
“Absolutely not. They need to heal properly.”
McCree gripped the meager swell of fat on Hanzo’s chest and pushed it together. Hanzo huffed a gentle laugh. The cowboy always was obsessed with cleavage. “You’re sure? And how long will that be, Han?”
“Oh, just up to a year,” Hanzo said casually.
McCree groaned bodily. “You’re killlin’ me, Hanzo. That’s not fair.”
Hanzo wriggled out of McCree’s grip and turned around on the bench. He scooted closer to McCree, into the heat of his arms. Hanzo ran his blunt nails down McCree’s cloth-covered chest, coming to rest on the swell of his groin. Clearly something had distracted McCree.
“Maybe if you prove you can be careful with them I’ll let you help keep them clean,” Hanzo purred. “There are a lot of details to take care of. I might need…assistance.”
McCree perked up, pushed into Hanzo’s hand.
“I could do that. I’m awful good at helping.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He squeezed teasingly, flicking the eager head of McCree’s cock through his workout shorts.
Then he turned away, back to his weights and his clinging, sweaty workout clothes.
“But I think I’d like to finish my exercise first.”